Four Years
by secretmonkey
Summary: What if things happened the way Carter said he intended them to? What if Amy and Sabrina broke up when Karma and Amy went off to be college roomies? Got the idea for this when I read Carter's (stupid) plan for where things would have gone. Thought it was going to be Karmy but it had other ideas… (Amy, Sabrina) Karma (A little Karmy)


You and Sabrina break up when you're eighteen and it almost kills you.

It isn't any one thing (college) and it isn't any one person's fault (yours) and there's not really anything you could have done differently ( _bullshit_.) She's going to the University of Texas, Austin and you're… well…

Clement was always the dream. And maybe, for a while there, it seemed like a dream deferred but in the end it's where you know you (read: you _and_ Karma) (and even _now_ there's still a you _and_ someone other than your girlfriend and she knows it) are supposed to go and you swear up and down (and down and up and occasionally sideways) that you can make it work, that long distance isn't the end (miles are just numbers, you _say_ ) (bullshit, you _think_ ) (cause it isn't _just_ about the distance) and swear over and over again that you don't want to lose her but, by the week before you (and Karma) leave, you and Sabrina both know that's pretty much inevitable.

Mostly because _you've_ said it is and while you've never said _why_ (besides the distance, once you stopped saying it was just a number) you both _know_.

College is a new start, a new _chance_ and you're not sure _what_ it's a chance for, exactly, but you know for sure it's one you _have_ to take. And you know (even more for sure) it's one _she_ can't take with you.

Sabrina asks you, that last night, as she curls against you and arches her back one last time in your bed, moaning your name softly, not to rush. You slow your touch but she shakes her head, _that_ isn't what she means.

"Don't replace me too soon," she says and there are tears in her eyes and there's a moment (a brief one) (but longer than you might have expected) where you mind drifts to the letter - still sealed - from UTA in your desk drawer and you wonder if this… _chance_ … is really worth it. "I know there will be college girls and…"

(She trails off and doesn't finish the 'and', but she doesn't have to.)

(You both know what comes next.)

You slide up the bed, wrapping yourself around her and cradle her to you. You can feel her tears on your chest and you know your own are _right there_ but you hold them back because this was _your_ decision, this was _your_ choice and more than anything else, that means that _you_ don't _get_ to cry.

"There won't be _anyone_ else," you say and you're pretty sure that you mean it. "You think you're that easy to get over?"

Sabrina sniffles against you and her lips find your skin and for the next few hours she does _everything_ she can to remind you just how how _not_ easy that will be and, in the morning, when she leaves and you whisper it to her again (but somehow 'forget' to say those other three words) (because it hurts too fucking much) (and yeah, the look in her eyes right then? _That's_ gonna linger) you really do _mean_ it.

So when - about a month into your first semester, when the pain of missing her has almost equaled out to the pain of that… _chance…_ seeming to be all for nothing - you find yourself flat on your back in your first ever dorm room bed with some blonde you don't really know (like as in not even her name) between your legs and enough tequila in your blood to flood Mexico, you're a little surprised.

Or, really, you _would_ be, if you weren't so drunk _and_ sad _and_ coming so _damn_ hard from misshwhateverthefuckhernameis's tongue that you can't see straight.

The orgasms (enough that you lose count) come during the night and the surprise comes in the morning. A whole heaping plate of it with a side of massive regret and a dash of inconsolable guilt and a freshly squeezed glass of 'for shame' looks from Karma that last close to a week.

"What?" you ask by Thursday. "It's not like I was _cheating_ ," you snap. "And you don't even _like_ Sabrina."

Karma doesn't argue, in fact she doesn't say a word and by Friday the looks are gone and things are back to normal and she doesn't even give you any shit when you don't return Sabrina's weekly Saturday morning phone call till the middle of the next week. But that's the thing with you and Karma. She doesn't have to _say_ it.

She never liked Sabrina, but she kinda likes the drunken hooking up and feeling like shit about it the next morning you even less and she lets you know _that_ every single time.

But _she_ isn't giving you any reason not to, so fuck her.

* * *

Sabrina starts seeing someone new when you're nineteen and - surprisingly - it hurts so much that you think you'll never recover. You spend two straight days in your bed, skipping class and meals and two parties but maybe _that's_ a good thing cause you don't invite any strangers into your bed and so maybe _never_ is a bit of an exaggeration.

Maybe.

Her name (and it is a _her_ ) (cause you had always wondered) (now you know) (and you're not sure if knowing - and if it being a her - makes it better or worse) is Sydney. She's a first year at UTA, in two of Sabrina's classes, majoring in Human Services, and she's only recently out as gay. You learn all of this from Lauren, less than five minutes after you learn that she and Sabrina have kept in touch (moreso than _you_ and Sabrina, obviously) and you're not sure if that should make you feel grateful, confused, or pissed.

(You settle for all three.) (But don't let on about _any_ of them to Lauren cause… well… _Lauren_.)

"I think it's going to be good for her," Lauren says during your weekly Skype call. "Sabrina seems really happy for the first time in like _forever_ and she says she thinks Sydney might be…"

Lauren's end of the call trails off (there's someone in the background talking to her) ( _distracting_ her) (if it's Booker, you swear to _God_ …) and the silence leaves you to wonder (like _that's_ ever good.)

Sydney might be.

Might be faking it? Probably not (you weren't trendsetters.) Might be just experimenting? Also not likely (Sabrina, despite it not working on _herself_ , has _excellent_ gaydar.) Might be a dude? Might be moving away soon, never to return? Might be a fan of Percy Jackson over Harry Potter (the _bitch_ ), might think _The L Word_ should have kept going, might think orange is _not_ the new black?

"Sorry," Lauren says (and you see Booker - that _fucker_ \- over her shoulder) as she returns to the call. "Where was I? Oh, yeah… she thinks Sydney might be the one to get her over you."

Lauren says it so simply, so plainly, so _obviously_ looking for a reaction from you and you manage to give her one if by 'one' you mean a nod and a mumble (you _think_ you say 'good for her' or something along those lines, but you're not _sure_ ) and you try to remember that Lauren is under the impression that you're over Sabrina (or, at least, that's the impression _you_ gave her, though you're not sure she _believed_ it) (she didn't) and that you don't _think_ about Sabrina and that your time here is taken up by any number of girls who _aren't_ Sabrina (or Karma) and so, of course, it doesn't bother you even a tiny bit that you might be gotten over.

Not that Lauren believes that. Not that _you_ do either. And not that you've got the first fucking clue what to make of _that_.

Though you do understand Karma just a little better.

* * *

Karma kisses you when you're twenty and you try not to freak out.

You fail - fucking _miserably_ \- but you try.

You try not to feel guilty either, not like you _should_ \- after all Karma isn't the first girl you've kissed since you've been here and Sabrina's moved on (or so Lauren says) (often) - but, really, you fail pretty fucking miserably at that, _too_.

Karma's not the first kiss you've had ( _obviously_ ) and it isn't even the first time _she's_ kissed you since you both left Austin (it's not even the second or third and it isn't even the farthest things have gone since then.)

( _That_ would be that one night.) (Sabrina and Sydney night.) (Vodka and cranberry night.) (The night you got rip roaring drunk and Karma got just as ripped - and _almost_ as roared - in moral support.) (Which was followed by the _morning_.) (The one when you woke up with your hand between her legs and your head resting on her very naked chest and the only part you _remember_ is sneaking out of her bed before she woke up.)

(That and the funny looks you caught her giving you for the next week.)

( _And_ the taste of her on your… )

So it isn't the first time (or the second) but what it _is_ is the first time she's done it sober or not on a dare or to shut some dude down at a club or because _you_ looked sad or _she_ felt like it and it's the first time it isn't… _dirty_.

It's anything _but_.

It's slow and it's sweet and it's tender and it's her hands cupping your cheeks and you slowly sliding into her lap (like it's where you were _meant_ to be) and it's everything fifteen (and sixteen) (and every once in a while since then - teen) ever dreamed it would be.

So many _dreams_.

Maybe (not maybe) that's why you pull back, breaking the kiss (and it's the second hardest kiss you've ever had to end) and pinch yourself. And then, just for good measure (and cause she - _finally_ \- told you one drunken night about the 'camping' dream) you pinch her too.

Karma stares at you from the edge of the bed. "You know, after a kiss like that, I've had my boobs grabbed, my ass squeezed, my lip nibbled on and my… um… yeah…" She blushes a shade darker than her hair and it's all you can do not to tackle her then and there. "But I've never had my arm pinched."

You eyes do a quick circuit of the room and everything is still in place and Karma hasn't morphed into Sabrina (or Lauren) (that only happened _once_ ) and you don't seem to be waking up and that means…

"You kissed me." Karma nods with this bemused little smile on her face and all _that_ does is convince you even more that this is just ( _another_ ) dream (probably one of the ones that ends with you ripping her a new one for all she's put you through.)

(And then with her apologizing.) (Repeatedly.) (In various… configurations.) (And if you keep thinking about _that_ , you're _going_ to tackle her.)

" _You_ kissed _me_ ," you repeat and Karma nods again, but you don't think she quite gets it. "You _kissed_ -"

She silences you with hands on your hips and lips on your lips and then there's some of that boob grabbing and a little of that ass squeezing and quite a bit of that lip nibbling and then...

Oooh… so _that's_ what 'my… um… yeah' _meant_.

* * *

The kisses come first and then the hands and then there's skin on skin and fuck all, she's as _perfect_ as fifteen year old (or any _age_ old) you ever imagined.

(Except she's real.) (She's _Karma_ and she's _real_ and your mind - and most especially your heart - may not have even the tiniest clue what to do with _that_ , but the rest of you _does_.)

All those dreams - so _many_ \- were all the same (more or less) and it was almost always Karma doing unto you (your mind was a bit… vindictive) (and really, that was only _fair_ ) and so you being able to… do unto _her_ … is something new and different and it's pretty much something you could imagine yourself doing for the rest of your life.

(And you _know_ you'll be doing it _a lot_ in the _very near_ future cause there's so many spots to try out and so many bits to taste and so many moans to hear and reactions to learn and _God_ if she cums like this _now_ , just wait till you show her how it's _really_ done.)

All of that comes first and then later, _much_ later, the words come. And yes, you know they probably should have come first (but the other way round was so much more _fun_ ) (and considerably less _terrifying_ ) and you're lying in one sweaty heap, lazily trailing your fingers along her skin and memorizing _exactly_ how every touch makes her tremble when she finally says it.

"I love you."

Once upon a time, you might have died from hearing those words and once upon _another_ time you might have _killed_ her for saying them. _That_ was always how you pictured it finally happening. At some party (probably one of Shane's) you hand in hand and dancing close with your girlfriend (Reagan, at first, and then - for so much longer - Sabrina) and Karma would finally crack, she would finally slip past the point of _enduring_ and she'd finally admit it - first to herself - and then, cause it's Karma and she just couldn't _help_ it, to you and to the world.

For _so_ long, you pictured the light dying in your girlfriend's eyes, the way hearing those words from _her_ would tell _them_ all they'd need to know. You could see the nodded 'I knew it' and 'had to happen eventually' from Lauren and Shane and Liam (that _fucker_ ) and you saw the way you would shake your head and fight and say 'no, no, no' and 'I'm with _you_ ' and 'it's too _late_ '.

But in the end, once upon a time, you would have walked away (run) (be _honest_ ) (you'd have set a land speed record) from _whoever_ you were with, just for the chance to hear those words from her even just _one_ more time.

This, though, isn't once upon _that_ time and you're not _that_ her anymore and yes, the kisses were good and the sex was… well… you won't have trouble remembering it _this_ time… but this is still Karma and you can never be _sure_ and yes, you've _started_ to forget Sabrina…

(Mostly because she's forgotten you.) (Or so Lauren says.)

(You're not sure you believe her.) (But you think you _have_ to.)

Karma cups your cheek and turns you to face her. "I love you," she says again and it's so clear and simple and… _honest_ … and what you wouldn't have given to hear _that_ that night in your bedroom. "I always have and I'm sorry it took so long and I'm extra sorry this is the best speech you're going to get out of me cause the grand gesture thing has been done to _death_ and I'd much rather show -"

You silence her with your lips on her lips and then you spend far more time than you'd ever imagined (and you'd imagined _a lot_ ) making her anything _but_ silent and yeah, this really isn't once upon _that_ time.

Maybe that's why it'll work.

* * *

It _does_ work, at least at first, and that's _all_ Karma.

You're not sure how it was for Liam or that Hawaiian fuck widget whose name you can't remember (or for Felix) (whose name you _can_ remember) (unfortunately) (though not as well as you can remember the sad crumpled I'm gonna go drown my sorrows in a really big _wine cooler_ face he made at Senior Prom when Karma dumped him) but if _this_ was the Karma Ashcroft Girlfriend Experience?

How stupid _were_ they that they did _anything_ to lose it?

The first month is a tour de force, a trip through the highlights of every rom-com Karma ever made you watch (and a few you think she must have watched alone) (like when you were out) (with Sabrina) (and she was by herself and in need of some romance therapy cause, as she's said about a thousand times in the last four weeks, she loved you even _then_.)

(And if there's a moment, every time she says it, when you feel just the tiniest bit of… something… bubbling up and you have to shove it back down cause things _are_ good and that's all the _past_ and sleeping dogs and all that… well, you'll learn to live with it.)

There's breakfast in bed (and sometimes it's even _food_ ) and there's doughnuts delivered to your classes and there's trails of post it notes leading from the door to the bed (it's a dorm, it's a short walk, but it's the thought that counts) (that _and_ the very naked Karma at the end of the trail) and there's the playlists you find in your Spotify with titles like _Thinking of You_ and _Still Thinking of You_ and _Thinking of You Thinking of Me_ and _I'm Going to Fuck You When You Get Home so Skip Class._

Sometimes it's so much you think she's doing research for a class. _Loving Amy Raudenfeld 101._

She'd get an A.

The first month is fantastic and exciting and - miraculously - _new_. Sure, there were always going to be parts ( _Karma's_ parts) (the ones you'd only gotten peeks at in gym locker rooms) that would be new and different. There would be simple things, too. Things like holding hands on the way to class or ending texts with love you (the _words_ weren't new, just the sentiment and not even that, really, cause Karma always reminds you how she _really_ meant it all those times) and things like falling asleep snuggled in bed and not having to worry where your hands might wander.

(Karma encourages wandering.) (Lots and lots of wandering.)

But underneath all the _new_ is still the _old_ (and _that's_ not the right word) (not _old_ ) (familiar) (that's better.) She's still Karma and you're still Amy and at heart nothing's changed.

Except everything's changed.

There's a moment, halfway through the second month, when it hits you. It's your first fight (and that alone should tell you how _hard_ Karma worked that first month) and, of course, it's about the only thing it could be.

"I just don't understand why you still talk to her," Karma says. "You don't see me chatting up Liam or making plans to see him over Thanksgiving."

Of course you didn't. Partly since Liam is with Lauren and partly since _that_ (Karma and Liam) (fucking _Kiam_ ) has been over for a _long_ while (since before Hawaiian dude) (since before _Felix_ ) and partly since Liam won't be in Austin for Thanksgiving.

Dallas. With Lauren. And Bruce. And Bruce's new wife.

(The one three years older than Lauren.)

(For once, you almost feel sorry for Booker.) (That _fucker_.)

"I haven't made any plans," you say and that's - more or less - the truth. "I said maybe. _Maybe_ we could see each other. _Maybe_ we could do lunch. _Maybe_ she could bring Sydney and I could… meet them somewhere."

Old Karma - _familiar_ non-girlfriend, non-wandering encouraged, non- _sleeping_ with Karma - would have caught the slip. She would have heard you try oh so gracefully (not really) (cause… well… _you_ ) to catch yourself and fix it. She would have _caught_ it and she would have _held_ it and she would have internalized it and buried it and not said a fucking _word_ about it until much, much later.

(And even then, there would have been _words_ , but none of them would have been about _that_ except _all_ of them would have been about _that_.)

New Karma - the one you waited oh, so long for - catches it. And holds it. And internalizes it.

And then rips you up one side and then down the other with it. Cause now? She _can_.

"She could bring Sydney and you could bring _you_ ," she mutters (which suggests not wanting you to hear but, oh, she _wants_ you to hear.) "You haven't told her, have you? We've been together almost two months and you haven't said a word to Sabrina about it, have you?"

In the entirety of your twenty years on this planet, you've never _ever_ wanted to say 'well, _duh_ ' more than in this moment.

"We don't even talk," you say, well aware that 'talk' is semantics since no, you and Sabrina don't actually _speak_ (much) and most of your communication is through texts (yours) and emails (hers) and the occasional Snapchat (her) ( _always_ her) (surprisingly none of them including Sydney) (who you still have never _seen_ ) and if, maybe, those other forms of… talking… might border on bust-your-data-plan-if-you-had-one levels…

She's your friend. She has been since you were twelve. If you don't count the two years of 'I love yous' and near constant kissing and quite a lot of… well… other _stuff_ , then you've always been _friends_.

Karma counts those two years. She _so_ counts them.

She snatches your phone off your desk and scrolls through your messages (and you try not to think about her and phones and Sabrina) and even though you know you've got nothing to hide?

That gnawing pit in your stomach says different.

And maybe, even though Karma storms off in a huff and then comes back an hour later and apologizes (in all those different configurations) and promises to not make a fuss when you go to dinner with Sabrina and Sydney and says she understands why you haven't told her, you still have to wonder.

Cause that gnawing pit is still there.

And maybe, you can't help thinking, that's why it _won't_ work.

* * *

You (and Karma) see Sabrina for the first time since the break up when you're twenty and home for Thanksgiving and it almost kills you.

And if that tells _you_ something, it tells Karma a lot more.

You (and Karma) see her but she doesn't see you (or Karma) (or your hands, interlocked on the table top) (it's your two-monthiversary) (and yes, _that's_ a thing) (a _Karma_ thing) and you've never been more grateful for anything in your life as you are that Sabrina doesn't turn around, that she doesn't look into the dark corner of the restaurant, that she just seems to be there to get takeout and leave and _that_ thought (her leaving) (her leaving _alone_ ) is the only thing keeping your heart from erupting right out of your chest.

It's two days before Thanksgiving which gives you _three_ days before you're supposed to meet her and Sydney for dinner and that's three days you were _counting_ on, three days you _need_ cause you know you're not ready, not in the least.

Which is, of course, why Sydney is there. Right there. Right then. Walking right up to Sabrina and slipping an arm around her waist as they wait at the bar for their order and then laughing lightly (and you mean _lightly_ ) (you can hear her and the sound of it, it's like… it's like air floating through a cloud of sun and light and love and fucking unicorns and _God_ , you hate her already) and kissing Sabrina on the cheek and the bite of shrimp in your mouth just loses all flavor and you have to pry your hand free from Karma's so you can spit the carcass into your napkin.

And if the sound of Karma's now un-entiwined fingers drumming on the table is the first thing that actually reminds you she's there?

Yeah. That can't be good.

"You going to say something?" she asks and you're not entirely sure if she means to Sabrina and Sydney (even their names work together) or to _her_ ( _about_ Sabrina and Sydney) so you just shake your head and try to focus back on your plate. "You sure?" Karma asks again. "I can go to the ladies room or outside for some air or, you know, back to New Orleans, if that would help."

You poke your fork listlessly into a shrimp and refuse to take the bait. "Can we do this later?"

"This?" Karma asks. "What _this_?" She glances back up toward the bar where Sydney has snuggled even closer, both her arms around Sabrina and her head resting on the older girl's shoulder. "Oh, you mean the you obviously being bothered… maybe even _jealous_ … at the sight of your _ex_ and someone else? _That_ this?"

The fork slips from your fingers and clatters against your plate. "I'm not jealous," you say and you're not lying. Whatever you're feeling it isn't jealousy… not _exactly_. "It's just… a shock, that's all."

Karma folds her napkin - very precisely - and tucks it under the edge of her plate. "You've known," she says. "You've known for months that they're together."

Knowing and seeing - and not just in your mind's eye or in your sleep or in the daydreams that sometimes slip in, filling in the cracks in between all of Karma's romance - are two entirely different things.

"Yeah," you say, spearing a shrimp, driving the fork through it. "I know that I've known, Karma, OK? It's just…" You twist the fork, digging the tines through the shrimp. "It's just a little blow to my ego, alright? You're not the only one who loves being loved, you know?"

It's maybe a bit of a low blow.

OK. Not maybe. And more than a bit. But in your defense…

Yeah. There's _no_ defense.

Karma doesn't say anything as she slips from the table and you don't make any effort to stop her either. You don't stand up (that would draw attention) and you don't reach out to catch her hand (one of yours is still gutting the shrimp and the other is curled into a fist in your lap) and you don't call out after her (attention, _again_.) Her coat is still on the back of her chair and her purse is still on the other chair between you and so you know she's not leaving.

Not yet, anyway.

* * *

You and Karma sleep apart for the first time in months that night and then the night after that and the night after that and even when she does find her way back into your bed - the night when you come home later than planned from dinner with Sabrina and Sydney - it's not quite the same.

You've gotten used to sleeping with _girlfriend_ Karma. Spooning turning into sprawling turning into Karma using you as a full body pillow and the warm weight of her - so soft and heavy in all the right ways - pressing against you has given you some of the best night's sleeps of your life.

That night she crawls into bed beside you and curls herself around you, little spooning you the way she did when John McGuire made fun of your haircut in fifth grade or Billie Reed clipped you in the face with a field hockey stick in seventh or when Reagan broke up with you or when you cried yourself to sleep after the third no name blonde during freshman year. Her hands find yours and your fingers lace together and she presses soft and chaste kisses to the back of your head while you silently sob into your pillow.

When she slips from bed in the middle of the night and finds her way back to the guest room, she doesn't say a word.

But you're awake and you hear her go.

And you let her.

* * *

Sabrina and Sydney break up the Monday after Thanksgiving and that night you make Karma scream.

In the good way.

At least at first.

Lauren's the one who breaks the news, texting you in the middle of your Abnormal Psych class and you spend the next forty-five minutes trying - unsuccessfully - to figure out how you feel about it. By the time class is over (or, really, five minutes _after_ cause you're so lost in your own thoughts you don't even hear everyone else filing out) you've decided how you feel.

You've _decided_.

Yes, you know - you know all too fucking well, thank you very much - that _feeling_ doesn't work like that but it's going to, it's _so_ going to, for you, this time. You've decided, you've made a choice ( _another_ one) (and let's be real here, it's the _first_ choice you made that means you _have_ to make this one) and that's all there is to it.

You've decided that you're going to be (not _going to be) (are_ ) fine with it. Sad for Sabrina - cause she's alone again - and sad for Sydney too cause it was obvious ( _so_ obvious) how deeply she'd already fallen. You could see it in every look, in the way her face lit up when Sabrina took her hand, in the way even the smallest of smiles from Sabrina made her blush, in the way she hung on her girlfriend's every word (sometimes even ignoring you) and the way she stared, the way she watched everything Sabrina did (reading the menu) (thanking the waitress) (staring a little too long at you) like it was the first time she'd ever seen it.

You wondered - more than once, actually - if Sabrina had seen _you_ do that, if she'd seen _that_ with you and Karma and you _don't_ wonder how much that must have hurt.

You don't _have_ to wonder.

It was so clear, just how in love Sydney was, no better evidence of it than the way she kept herself between you and Sabrina the entire evening.

Except when she went to the 'powder room' (her words) and left the two of you alone by the coat check on your 'best behavior' (her words) (again) and you could see it again - how far gone, how far over the fucking moon she was - when she came back and her eyes flicked back and forth between you and Sabrina, like she was trying to decide if the amount of space between you was normal or if you'd put a little extra, if you were overcompensating and trying to hide something.

(You were.) (But no amount of space could erase the taste of Sabrina's kiss from your lips and, later that night, you were never so glad Karma didn't try to kiss you in your life.)

So, yeah, you've decided to feel bad for both of them and you've decided that you'll send Sabrina a 'sorry to hear' text later and offer, politely (in that obviously doing it to be polite and not expecting you to take me up on it kinda way) to be a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen.

Later.

You'll do it later.

Cause before _that_ , you've decided that while you're feeling bad for them, you're _not_ going to feel good for you - not _because_ of them - but you _are_ going to feel good cause you're tired of feeling bad and you're tired of making Karma feel bad (cause it isn't her fault) (it never was) (you made your own choices and you'd make them all again.)

(You think.)

It's easy for you to beat her home and it's simple (cause, again, short trip) for you to leave the rose petals in a trail from door to bed and it's even easy to wrap the oversized bow around you and it's _ridiculously_ easy for you to be ready and wet and waiting for her and it's _so_ easy for Karma to light up from head to toe, so easy for her to smile like you've changed her life, _insanely_ easy for her to strip down and dive into bed and it's the _easiest_ thing ever for the both of you to get lost in each other.

It always was.

And if you don't blush at her words like you once did? If the smile her touch brings to your face isn't quite as real as it once was? If you close your eyes instead of watching as she slides down between your legs and if your moans become just sounds instead of her name and if you _decide_ to enjoy and revel and let her love you?

That's all pretty easy too. To ignore, to pretend, to _deny deny deny._ It's all too easy, in the moment.

If you could only _live_ in the moment.

* * *

You're twenty-one and on the verge of graduating and Karma's already talking about houses and jobs and futures when you decide (again) that you can't anymore.

You can't live in the moment.

She takes it well. Sort of. Kinda. Maybe she could take it a little better…

Fuck it.

She takes it like _shit_ and you're not surprised and you know (even if she doesn't) that you deserve every single curse she sends your way, that you deserve every four letter word and every scream and every set of keys that get flung in your general direction and every picture frame that gets thrown onto the floor and every bit of glass that shatters and splinters and pricks your bare feet.

"I'm sorry," you say and yes, you know that's about as inadequate as it could _possibly_ be, but it's all you have.

(It's _not_.) (It's not _really_.) (You have more, you have a lot more, you have the _truth_.)

"I'm sorry," you say again and it may not be all you have but it's all _she's_ going to get cause the truth _might_ set you free but - more than likely - it _would_ set Karma _off_.

"Tell me," she says and there's tears in her eyes but anger in her voice, in the way she spits the words at you (not _literally_ ) (but you're not sure she's that far removed from the possibility.) "Tell me it's _her_."

You don't need her to be more specific and she knows it. There's only one 'her' and there's _always_ only been _one_ 'her' and maybe - hindsight and all that fucking shit - if you'd realized that _before_ , this might not…

Fuck that.

This would have always happened because you always would have been here and you always would have been with _her_ (Karma) (not the _one_ 'her') because that's what _you_ do.

 _Did._

"It's not," you say (lie) and you think about arguing more but thou dost not wish to protest too much. "This is about us, Karma. No one else."

Karma gives you a look - one you haven't seen since the Hester basement and yeah, this moment right here? It might (not _might_ ) be worse than _that_ and that's saying _something_ \- from across the room. She's put an increasingly large amount of distance between the two of you since you said it

(I can't be with you anymore.)

and you're pretty sure if she could actually go all X-Men and phase _into_ the wall she would.

"No," she says, flatly. Plain and simple and clear. "This is about _you_ , not us. If this was about _us_ , then maybe _we_ would have talked about it. Maybe _we_ would have discussed whatever problems there are between us and maybe we could have fix-"

"There's no fix," you say, cutting her off and if you could bring yourself to look at her, you'd be terrified at the way she… deflates. She sags against the wall and it's like the bones have fallen from beneath her skin and the only thing holding her up is sheer force of will. "We don't work and you _know_ that. This… _this_ isn't _us_."

"If it isn't us," she says, "then who is it?"

You shake your head and scoot back onto the bed, pressing yourself against the pillows and the headboard and you can almost feel yourself shrinking. "This is us _wanting_ this to be us, this is us _trying_ to _make_ this us, but it isn't working, Karma. It hasn't worked in…" You hang your head and brace yourself. "It hasn't _ever_ worked. Not really."

You want her to agree with you. More than anything in the fucking world you want her to nod and accept and shuffle over to the bed and settle herself down on the end so you can both eulogize this failed… experiment… and start the long road back to being the real 'us'. The best of friends, the family, the two of you against the world.

That's _all_ you want. Well, maybe not _all_ , but the rest...

The rest will mean so much less without it.

"I took too long," she says and now the tears are in her eyes _and_ her voice and you think _that_ might just kill you. "I was too scared and too caught up in fantasies of what it was all supposed to be and I took too long to tell you and I'm sorry, Amy."

She's not wrong, not about any of it, but that's got so… _nothing_ … to do with any of it, that you don't know what to say.

"I tried, you know," Karma says. She slips down the wall, that force of will just… _gone_. "I tried so hard at first. I wanted you to see. I wanted you to _know_ and to _understand_ and to… _believe_ me cause I knew how hard…"

"I believed, Karm," you say quietly but she just shakes her head and you know her (you _know_ her) and you know you'll never convince her otherwise.

"She took it," she says. "She took my story and she took my moment and she took my speech and all I had…" Karma puts her head in her hands and there's never been a more awkward moment between you, not _ever_. "I waited too long and while I was waiting… she took _you_ and you _left_ her and you _picked_ me but… but _she_ took _you_ and she's never given you back, has she?"

You draw your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs. "I told you, this isn't about -"

"Amy."

You look up, pulling your eyes from the wrinkled fabric of the duvet and stare across the room at the girl you've loved for half your life (and all you can think about is the 'ed' on the end of that fucking word) and you don't know if she's ever going to forgive you for this.

But you _know_ you _won't_.

"I tried," Karma says. "You can't say I never did but…" She reaches up to the counter next to her and plucks the keys (the set she _didn't_ throw) and tosses them to you. "It's almost an eight hour drive," she says. "Probably closer to six the way you drive."

You stare at the keys, resting there on the bed and shake your head. It isn't that simple, it isn't just end things here and tear off into the night to go get the girl. It isn't that… _easy_.

"It can be," Karma says and you realize you spoke, that you said it out loud. "With you two, except for that one little lying about the boyfriend thing, it always was."

You shake your head again. Even as your hand creeps out, closer to the keys.

"I fixed this once, Amy," Karma says. "I did my best friend duty and I set you free and all of… that." She pushes herself to her feet and walks to the door. "This time, it's on _you_."

Her coat is still on the hook by the door and her purse is still on the dresser and her keys are somewhere on the other side of the room so she _can't_ be leaving. But when the door shuts behind her?

You know she's not.

But you are.

* * *

Karma was wrong.

It was a five hour trip the way you drive.

By the time you get to Austin, by the time you pull up outside Sabrina's house, by the time you find yourself sitting on the hood of your car (and by 'your', you mean yours and Karma's and yeah, this is all gonna take some sorting out) you're wishing you'd driven a bit slower.

Cause you've got no fucking _idea_ what to say.

You don't know, not for sure, anything about her life now. Lauren moved back to Dallas with Liam (that _fucker_ ) taking your one tiny little peephole into Sabrina's life with her. Last you heard, she was single, but that was what, four or five months ago? Things change. People change.

Or, you know, sometimes they _don't_ , no matter how hard they try.

If Karma were here she'd tell you to march up to that door and ring that bell and when Sabrina opened it, she'd take one look in your eyes and she'd just _know_ and you'd kiss and mumble 'I love you's' against each other's lips and all would be right with the world.

(Actually, if Karma were here, you're pretty sure not a single _word_ of that would leave her lips.)

If Shane were here… if Lauren… if Liam… (that _fucker_ )...

It doesn't matter. They're _not_ and you _are_ and you didn't drive five hours just to sit on the hood of your car staring at her front door like some kind of -

"You stalking me now?"

Your head whips around and you almost fall from the hood (fucking graceful, Raudenfeld) and there she is, carrying a stack of books and her hair's up in a messy ponytail and she looks like she hasn't slept in days and fuck all _that_ shouldn't make your heart race. That's just... _nuts._

Karma might have a different word for it.

"I… um… I…" _God_ you suck at this.

Sabrina walks around to the hood, taking a glance inside the car. "You're alone?" she asks and you know she doesn't mean just _right now_ and you nod cause, apparently, speaking is not your forte right now. "Yeah," she says, setting her books down next to you and leaning against the passenger door. "Me too."

You nod (again) and a wave of relief washes over you. Not that you think _just_ because she's single that means you're in, but it does give you a chance, at least and _she_ did kiss _you_ that Thanksgiving weekend and _she_ did break up with Sydney right after it and…

And you stayed with Karma for almost another year.

"Did I wait too long?" you ask (and yes, you see the fucking irony, it's fucking _blinding_ , you couldn't miss it if you tried.) "I didn't… I mean… I…" You hang your head and wish - for the first time _ever_ \- that you'd paid more attention during all those rom-coms.

Sabrina pushes off the car and stands in front of you, sliding between your knees and putting her hands on the hood, on either side of your hips. "It's been almost a year since we kissed," she says. "A year since I told you I still loved you."

You nod cause, well, what the fuck else are you supposed to do?

"And it's been just about three years since you broke up with me," she says and that doesn't _sound_ good for you but she's not backing away. If anything, she's getting closer. "So that's what? Four years total?"

You nod again even though you don't know if it is cause being this close, well, it kinda makes it hard for you to do the maths.

"So," she says, leaning closer (and if she's setting you up for the kill, it might do just _that_.) "Way I figure it, I fell in love with you when I was twelve but didn't tell you till I was sixteen."

She presses her lips to yours and your hands find her hips as you slip from the hood and into her arms, and if this _is_ how you're gonna go, it's the best way you could have picked.

"So I guess," she says, gathering her books in one hand and taking yours in the other, tugging you up the walk and toward the front door. "We're just about even."


End file.
